Delicious Secrets and False Assumptions
by loonyluna9
Summary: LIME ALERT! [HDslash, 7th year] In which our favorite boys decide to skip dinner and Draco redefines what it means to be Head Boy...[Prequel&sequel to my other fic. Can still be read on its own however. Full details inside.]


**Author:** loonyluna9

**Title:** Delicious Secrets and False Assumptions

**Rating: **T (for plenty of cursing, as per usual, and more sexual innuendoes/references/situations than you can shake a stick at mister)

**Dedication: **This fanfiction is once again dedicated to my lovely reviewers and all who enjoy reading this and my work in general. You guys rock. Period. And tomy buddyKatie, who helped in creating a title and editing my work. I will pray for you and your stupid, non-music-playing headphones.

**Disclaimer: **Every Christmas I write to Rowling, requesting the rights to the 'Potterverse' as my sole gift from her. She never replied any of the eight times…So alas, I do not own this wonderful series yet but I'm still trying! I refuse to give up! Constant diligence is a virtue!

**Warnings: **This fic contains **slash**, which means boy/boy pairings. If these types of story pairings make you highly uncomfortable, you know what to do. –cough- back button! –cough- (Also, Harry is bit off his 'humor' rocker in this fic. He laughs and grins…like, a lot. Just thought I'd give you the heads up.)

**Summary: **LIME ALERT! (HarryDraco slash, disregards HBP, set in seventh year) In which our favorite boys decide to skip dinner and Draco redefines what it means to be "Head Boy"… Prequel/sequel to _For Lack of a Better Title_, can still be read on its own however.

**Quick (or maybe not so quick) Ramble: **Just so no one gets confused, up until the part where it says _"Next day. (January 17th) Dinner time."_ , that's the prequel. It basically gives the details (without the actual sex scene) of what went on when Harry mentioned Draco and himself having sex in _For Lack of. _After that, _For Lack of a Better Title_ would be the next scene as it would be the next day, in the morning. And _then_, the rest of this fic comes in, from after the _"Next day…"_ blah, blah, blahscene breakerto the end. Hope I didn't confuse you. To simplify, just think of it as a sandwich, where my other fic comes in between this one,right before it changes to Jnauary 17th at dinner. Feel free to read in that order if you like also.

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**Delicious Secrets and False Assumptions  
by loonyluna9**

Dinnertime at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is a wonderful time indeed. Teachers, weary from the strain of reprimanding students and teaching rigorous lesson plans, are thankful for the escape that marks the end of the school day. Students, thoroughly famished and also grateful for the end of classes, file into the Great Hall, all eager for a fabulous meal made special by the Hogwarts elves. Fish, steamed white rice, baked chicken, fresh bread, broiled potatoes, steak and kidney pie, chocolate mousse, and other scrumptious dishes are all passed around generously as merry chit chat resounds throughout the large room.

The generally genial atmosphere of the meal even has some of the toughest staff's lips quirking in a slight smile. Severus Snape, the renowned and particularly harsh Potions Master, was even witnessed half grinning in the Slytherins' general direction (most likely recalling the ridicule and sneers his house had dutifully directed towards the Gryffindors in Potions earlier that morning) during dinnertime last Wednesday.

And somewhere in the castle, Peeves is off chucking Dungbombs at lone, unsuspecting students or writing rude and very inappropriate poems and comments on the Transfiguration black board. Moaning Myrtle could probably be found cruising through the school's plumbing system or whining to a first year (who obviously doesn't know they should simply avoid/ignore Myrtle) about how horrible it is to be deceased and to have no friends. And without a doubt, one Mrs. Norris (owned by one nasty Argus Filch) is sniffing about, hoping to catch some students breaking school rules or at least a nice, juicy rat scampering around in the dungeons.

And this is a typical evening around 6:47 pm at Hogwarts. Students chatting amiably, ghosts absently floating about the castle, portraits visiting their other two-dimensional friends, and Filch polishing the manacles and chains hanging in his office all make up the habitual routine of every evening in this magical school. But on this one dusky, winter evening (January 16th to be exact) something is definitely out of place.

A quick survey with a trained eye over the sea of robed, animated pupils, would conclude that two very prominent students are not present in the Great Hall at the moment. Knowing who these two students are and their known, "public" relationship to one another, one would think that they were off in the astronomy tower conducting a secret wizard's duel or simply brawling it out in the trophy room. But that is where you're wrong my friend. Very wrong. The activities that they are currently participating in are a far cry from any silly argument or sloppy fist fight. In fact, one word to describe the current happenings between them would be…well, (and to be blunt) erotic.

-  
_Fourth floor corridor.  
_"Barney the Bemused Bowtruckle" _portrait.  
_-

A warm and welcoming fire crackled merrily inside an enchanted grate, illuminating the lavish furniture arranged throughout the Head Boy dormitory. Anyone with decent taste in room décor would instantly fall in love with its charm and generally cozy atmosphere.

A plush, sea green sofa and two matching, squashy armchairs surround a wooden coffee table, all set a few feet away from the blazing fireplace and cast in a sleepy, orange glow. And not far from here stands a tall, mahogany bookcase, packed with several thick texts, a green and silver tie hanging haphazardly from the top shelf. In the center of the room lies a classic, oval-shaped, threadbare rug, partially obscured from view by rumpled robes, socks, and equally wrinkled uniform shirts. On the opposite wall from the fireplace stands a lone desk, strewn with textbooks, parchment, and stray quills, all buried beneath a few half-eaten chocolate frogs, a red and gold tie, a gray uniform vest, and a pair of blue, cotton boxers.

And tucked into the corner, across from the private bathroom and dresser (which is currently sporting another pair of silk green boxers dangling on its handle), is a very elegant and equally spacious, emerald bed, complete with matching canopy, curtains, silk sheets and blankets, and feather-soft pillows, all cut in silver trim; a pair of black slacks hang precariously from the headboard.

And on this heavenly green bed lay two bodies caught in a tangled heap, chests heaving and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Both are exhausted (but completely sated nonetheless) from previous, exhilarating activities and are basking in the aftermath of it all, the familiar scent of release still hanging fresh in the air. Various props and a well-used tube of Madame Eleanor's Magical Pleasuring Lubricant lay scattered and forgotten about the bed and surrounding area. Nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing and the crackling of the dying fire permeate the still and comfortable silence…

"Draco?" a contented, yet tired voice whispers into the shadows.

"Hmm?"

"What timssit?"

A mop of blonde, disheveled hair pops up from beneath the sheets, gray eyes squinting at the clock on the mantle in the dimming fire light.

"Seven-thirty-five."

A grunt of acknowledgement.

A crackle from the fireplace.

A tick of the clock.

A clatter of the shutters.

…and then, simultaneous realization…

"Bloody hell, we fell asleep!"

"I'm late for my patrol shift! Fuck!" Draco swore violently, quickly heaving himself out of his warm cocoon of silk blankets.

"I promised Hermione I'd meet her in the library at seven after dinner! Oh no…dinner was over thirty minutes ago." Harry muttered, fumbling to untangle himself from the soiled bed sheets. "Where's my boxers Draco?"

"Check the couch or the desk!" the former shouted over his shoulder as he scrambled across the room to the rug. He hastily gathered the discarded clothes and tossed a school shirt to Harry. "Damn, Snape's gonna chew my ass out over being late again." he added quietly to himself.

The pair of them spent the next minute scrambling around the room, grappling at anything that looked remotely like clothing, and slipping it on without hesitation. Needless to say, they were very late for prior engagements.

Half-dressed, mind still clouded in a pleasure-induced haze, _and_ vision blurred, Harry was now fumbling bemusedly for his glasses on the hardwood floor. Although this sight was nothing short of cute, Draco had no time to admire this adorable scene and handed his lover his glasses. "You should really just go and get contacts." He added, a faint smirk betraying his otherwise serious demeanor.

"Will do. Thanks." was the mumbled reply.

As Draco scrabbled in the background searching for his tie and clip, Harry snatched his trousers from the headboard. Just as he was about to shove them on, he noticed a tear in the leg of the fabric and a faint, yet all too familiar scent wafting from them. He grinned wildly as he suddenly recalled a faint ripping sound as Draco was tugging his pants off of him.

"Hey Superman," Harry called over to his boyfriend who was currently buttoning up his vest. "You sure were desperate to get me out of my clothes and fuck me. You ripped my pants trying!"

Harry let out a howl of laughter at Draco's expression. Looking rightfully abashed, he drew his wand from his pocket. "Ha-ha, very funny. _Reparo_."

"And not only did you rip them," Harry wheezed through a fresh bout of giggles and hiccups. "But you managed to get your little swimmers on them too."

Although he rolled his eyes and tried his darnest to act exasperated, a telltale tinge of pink graced the Slytherin's pale cheeks and ear tips. As Draco hardly blushed or managed to look sheepish at all, this was a very rare and amusing sight to behold. Where's Colin Creevey when you need the little runt?

"Merlin, everything is so funny to you…sorry about that." he muttered, aiming his wand at the pants for a second time. "_Scourgify_."

"It's fine…Head Boy." Harry sniggered stupidly.

"Cheeky bastard." Draco called affectionately over his shoulder, now casting anti-wrinkle charms on his clothes. "And you can take the smug smirk off your face. Don't know why it's so damn amusing…"

And suddenly everything seemed very humorous indeed. Maybe it was because his mind was still fogged with the deliriously delicious memory that took place only minutes ago, or maybe it was because Draco looked so cute with flushed cheeks of embarrassment and ruffled hair. Perhaps it was even the severely lame pun he had just uttered. But either way, Harry found himself snickering again and in moments, was on the floor, doubled over with laughter.

"Hardy har-har.Yes, you're immensely witty Harry," came a sarcastic and amused drawl from across the room. "You should consider taking your act on the road."

_Next day. (January 17th) Dinner time._

"Hey 'Ermione, pasf the pota'oes."

"Ron, will you _please_ do us all a favor and swallow your food before you talk? It's highly revolting to see half-chewed chicken dumplings in your mouth whenever you speak. They look like clothes tumbling around in a Muggle dryer." Hermione retorted in irritation over her copy of the _Evening Prophet_, her nose crinkling in disgust.

"Sowry," Ron supplied, his mouth still full with chicken dumplings yet to be swallowed.

Hermione sighed in annoyance as she begrudgingly passed Ron the steaming bowl of mashed potatoes. Harry watched the exchange between his friends with evident amusement, idly picking at his half eaten sheppard's pie. It was kind of annoying sometimes to see them argue like they do when, in reality, they're supposed to be a couple. But although they bickered and had disagreements over the pettiest of things and frequently ignored each other for short periods of time, their make-up sessions tended to be very…hands-on and personal, to say the least.

"Oh right," Hermione began. "You never did tell me why you were late meeting me at the library yesterday."

"_Damn!_" Harry inwardly swore.

He had been trying to avoid that question all day, quickly changing the topic and creating distractions when it did arise. It didn't seem like he'd be able to worm his way out of it this time, however. He suspected that Hermione herself was getting a bit suspicious and noticing his delays and apprehension.

But just as the nervous Gryffindor was about to stumble into an answer, a smooth, cold voice interrupted him. He was immensely relieved and grateful for the intrusion and even more so at who had caused it.

"Well, well, well," Malfoy started, smirking at the prospect of verbally assaulting the Golden Trio again for the second time this day. "What do we have here? Are our favorite little Gryffindorks enjoying their evening meal?"

Ron, Harry observed, was steadily turning tomato red, obviously frustrated and angry with the Slytherin's constant attempts at picking fights. Hermione on the other hand, was visibly and audibly counting to ten, trying to control her quickly flaring temper. Apparently it worked, because when she spoke next, her voice was as calm and controlled as ever.

"Malfoy, please…_please_ don't start anything. I'd like to relax and eat my dinner in peace, as I'm sure everyone else in the Great Hall, especially the teachers and staff, would like to."

Malfoy merely raised both eyebrows, resulting in them disappearing behind his bangs. It was actually a quite comical sight. Harry bit his tongue, attempting to refrain from laughing out loud and drawing attention to himself. His mouth betrayed his brain's orders however as he emitted a small snicker. This did not go out of Draco's hearing range though as he suddenly rounded on Harry, a sneer readily planted on his face.

"And what are you laughing at Potter?" he spat. "Wouldn't blame you if it wasthe Weasel's evident lack of proper table manners or the bookworm's buck teeth."

And there was that damned smirk of superiority again.

Harry, knowing this was all playact though, pretended to glare at Draco, huffing and puffing a bit just for effect. The sneers and insults held 'hate' (although false) and said "rival", but the eyes still held affection no matter what and clearly said "lovers." The eyes never lie.

But already fed up with Malfoy's petty taunts, Ron's face was now dangerously red enough to rival his hair. And upon closer inspection, there was a slight twitch pulsing beneath his right eye, a sure sign of extreme irritation. Just as he was about to jump to his feet and smack the smug expression off the ferret's face, an enthusiastic voice rang from the Slytherin table amongst a roar of cheers and clapping.

"Hey Draco! Over here, hurry up!" Blaise Zabini shouted a few tables away, motioning for Draco to come over. "Garrison just swallowed a vial of woodlice! You have to see this!"

A mixture of vague disgust and annoyance briefly ghosted over Malfoy's handsome features, but was gone in the blink of an eye as he turned back to face Harry an his friends. His patented, 'I'm-a-Malfoy-and-so-much-better-than-you' smirk had already returned and with a flourish.

"Well I'm sorry to end our oh so enthralling tryst so soon," he began, satire clearly lacing this statement. "But I'm afraid my fellow Slytherins are calling for my attention and I must be off. So long and good riddance."

But no sooner had he taken two steps in the direction of his house table he abruptly turned back around, coming towards Hermione.

"And thanks for the _Prophet_ Granger." he quickly added as he snatched the aforementioned paper from Hermione's unexpecting hands. The Slytherin grinned maliciously at her startled expression and stalked off again, leaving her incredibly frustrated and speechless.

Harry looked up in time to catch the reckless grin and accompanying wink thrown his way just as Draco sat down at his table. He couldn't help smiling like a love-sick school girl in spite of himself.

This incredibly fluffy and sentimental moment did not last long however, as Hermione and Ron chose to find their voices at that exact moment.

"I can't believe him! Of all the nerve!"

"If I wouldn't get detention for it, I'd go over and deck him a good one!"

"Where does he get off insulting us out of the blue, unprovoked?"

"Someone needs to hex him and set his ass straight!"

"Out of everyone in the school, even out of every _Slytherin_, I can't believe Dumbledore made _him_ Head Boy!"

At this last exclamation, Harry was suddenly reliving the previous night all over again and a broad grin spread on his face.

"_And not only did you rip them, but you managed to get your little swimmers on them too." _

"_Merlin, everything is so funny to you…sorry about that. _Scourgify_."_

"_It's fine…Head Boy." _

"_Cheeky bastard."_

Soon that broad grin turned into small chuckles and snorts. And, before he could properly stifle it, a full, hearty laugh; one that caused Hermione and Ron to turn and look at him as if he had just announced he was having romantic rendezvous with Kreacher the house-elf. A very interesting expressionthat wasindeed.

"And what are you laughing at?" Ron spoke up, sounding uncannily like Draco did a few minutes previous.

This only made Harry laugh harder however, until tears of mirth streamed down his cheeks and a painful stitch formed in his side. Many eyes were upon him now, even from other tables, but Harry still laughed until he was breathless, not caring that so many people were gaping at him or that Colin's camera was fervently taking snapshot after snapshot.

"I think he's finally cracked," he heard Ron whispering conspiratorially to Hermione.

Finally calming down, he managed to catch Draco's eye from across the room and grinned, thinking, "If only they knew…"

-End-

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****Author's Note:** YAY! I finally finished this! WAHOO! -does something that vaguely resembles a victory dance- I'm finally satisfied with what came out for once too! Go me! So yeah, I hope you liked itas much as I did and my other fics if you decide to check 'em out. 

No promises that I'll do anything else with this fic or _For Lack of_. Right now, they're worn out and need a break, kinda like me actually. So that warrants me to not expect any 'plz do another chap, I'm dieing her!' or 'this was gr8, can't wait for the next chapter!' type reviews. I'm not touching this fic for a long, long time if ever, if I can help it.

Also, now that I've finished this fic, I'm pretty much fresh out of ideas. And until I get a plot bunny breeding in my brain, there won't be anymore fics for while. So if you have an idea, or something you'd like to see written and want to give me a shot, leave a fic suggestion in a review or private message! I'd be happy to take someone's idea (with permission of course) and write another fic from it.

Okay, I'm done talking…or typing. Whatever. You know what it's time for. -eyeballs the review button-Cookies and hugs to the person who makes me smile the widest with their review!


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